A Common Cold
by RannaLi
Summary: Spock gets a cold, and the Captain insists he spend his shore leave getting better.
1. Chapter 1

"My God man! Take my advice for once in your life, and you'll thank me later," the Doctor was raving.

"I ensure you Doctor, I can perform my normal duties even in my present condition," I say even though I'm completely positive my statement will have no effect on Dr. McCoy.

"Listen you little hobgoblin, you have a cold, and as much I'd like to help you as your physician, I can't. But the good thing is your timing couldn't have been any better seeing as the Enterprise is scheduled for some Shore Leave. Obviously you forgotten that you can use that opportunity to get better," said McCoy looking angry, red and smug.

I escaped a sigh and said, "There is no point in arguing with you seeing as your point does have some truth in it, but my trust in you and your profession has significantly decreased with your incapability to cure this simple cold."

"There IS NO cure for the common cold!!" screamed the Doctor as I walk out of sickbay.

I can understand the Doctor's concern but I don't understand why I must go on planet to recuperate, while I can do that efficiently in my quarters. Humans will always be confusing.

I've never taken shore leave, because I've never needed recreation and relaxation, but if my person is dysfunctional as a crewman aboard the Enterprise then perhaps it is a wise decision to...

"Hello, Spock," the Captain is miraculous in his talent for diverting my thought, "Bones tells me you caught a cold," I will not attempt to confirm with him that an infection cannot be physically captured.

"Yes, Captain, I apologize for the inconvenience, and with your permission, I would like to stay aboard..."

"You'll do no such thing, I order you to come with me down to the surface. I even rented a nice apartment where we can stay, and for a change, you'll let ME take care of YOU." The Captain is smiling as he pats my shoulder. Touching always made me feel uncomfortable, except when it was Jim.

"I cannot ask you to perform such a task, on my behalf," _*sniffle. _The effects of the influenza is becoming apparent. This state of health is completely inappropriate in front of my Captain. I try and hide my face from those hazel eyes.

His hand turns me around and he offers me a tissue. I accept it and I ponder where he had obtained it, perhaps he planned these exact events to occur. Jim constantly surprises me with his cleverness.

"Then I volunteer my services, and it would be impolite to refuse such an offer," Jim is still smiling.

"Obviously, you've fashioned no other alternative where I can politely reject your offer?" I say flatly. I know Jim is pondering on whether I'm expressing sarcasm.

His face regains its confidence and he says, "Of course. I don't believe in no-win scenarios." I respond by lifting my eyebrow.

"Listen, pack some stuff and I'll meet you down in the transporter room" he jogs off to the turbo lift and leaves me standing in the hallway.

Before I can stop it, "a-CHOOOOO!!" This is beyond humiliating. I will not be able to mentally survive this ordeal. I begin to walk more swiftly down the corridors to my quarters.

* * *

"I just knew you'd only bring yourself," Jim was far too excited at my weakened state then I would have preferred, "and because I knew that, I brought a bag for you consisting of clothing and all your necessities," Jim says while holding two Starfleet duffel bags.

"I would like to know on what basis you have chosen..." I begin but Jim interrupts me, "all your stuff? Well, the planet Prixima 8 is a contacted planet of the federation, yet it has yet to develop space travel and it bears a strange similarity to Earth's Edo period of Japan. Therefore I had your clothing fabricated to fit the environment and your..." I stop him, "Thank you Captain, I can imagine where you attained other objects you feel are necessary to our voyage," at this point he is simply showing off his intelligence, which at the present moment I can cope without.

In the last few minutes my cold had morphed into something so extraordinary and I was definitely not prepared for such an onslaught of exertion required to rid my body of the infection. I feel so sick.

Apparently, I can no longer hide my thoughts because Jim then says. "Don't worry Spock. Scotty will beam us directly into the apartment so you can lie down right away."

I'm stumbling, I uncontrollably use Jim's arm to regain my balance as nausea takes over my head. While he is holding myself and two bags worthy of three weeks of off ship living, Jim directs me on to the transporter, "Energize."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hold on," Jim catches me again and he guides me gently to the floor. He drops all our stuff and slides opens a closet door to reveal two futons.

"Jim, allow me to...assist you..." I say in broken a sentence I'm not proud of.

"You stay exactly where you are," Jim unfolds the futons and makes the beds in the side corner of the room. The room itself is somewhat smaller than I had initially figured. The floor is layered with Tatami mats and the walls are painted rice paper with the exception of one solid wooden wall.

It was no doubt designed so that the futons would only be used during the daylight hours in order to make this small apartment as multi functional as possible. I will once again be proven to be an inconvenience to Jim.

I feel a cold chill so I uncharacteristically crawl towards what I suppose will be my futon. I feel a cool sweat upon my brow. I am most definitely not enjoying the experience of the illness. This illogical feeling of being at two opposite body temperatures at the same time is unnerving.

"We can sort our stuff out later, right now I want to get something that will cure that cold," Jim says as he takes off his gold Starfleet uniform...

To put on the local clothing...

I will always place trust in Jim not to fret about his self-image in front of anyone. My Vulcan blood heats up my face, and displays a shade of green on my cheeks. Luckily for me I can defend my pride by insinuating that the cold is to blame.

"I highly doubt that if Dr. McCoy was incapable to cure this infernal cold, then you will have a lesser chance of accomplishing the task," I'm not purposely attempting to upset Jim. I'm merely stating the facts.

"Hahahaha. No Spock, this is only meant to help you feel better," Jim says as he struggles with tying a pair of pants over his regulation black trousers.

"Come here," I order, "I believe on Earth, this article was called a Hakama," his shoulders sag in defeat, Jim walks over with most of the fabric dragging behind him. I move to a kneeling position as I wrap the folds over each other and tie strings around his waist. I marvel at my work, until I realize the suggestive position we are both in and the location of where I have been staring at.

I quickly lay back down, "Might I inquire to what special remedy you desire to create on my behalf?"

Jim must have missed my awkward moment as he cheerfully says, "Chicken noodle soup. My mother used to feed it to me whenever I had the flu."

"I believe you will find that the major ingredient of your recipe is la.... a-A-CHOO!" sniffle, "lacking on this planet. Because just as on Earth, the chicken is..." My throat goes dry. It's suddenly so hard to speak.

"Oh crap, you're right Spock. Don't worry I'll figure something out," Jim has significantly less trouble with his top, "You should get some sleep, I'll be back in a jiffy."

I watch him leave through the sliding door, Jim is right. Sleep would be beneficial to regaining my health. I feel drowsy and my eyelids slowly close.

* * *

"Hey Spock, Spock," ehh what? Jim is shaking me awake. Something must be malfunctioning on the Enterprise!

"What's the matter Captain?!" I sit up as fast I as can. Ehhggg, I feel feverish. Of course, I'm on shore leave. I relax my tension.

"Haha, steady First Officer," Jim says as he puts a pillow behind my back, "I brought you something."

Jim walks towards the exit door and pulls out a covered bowl and a tray from a cloth bag. I feel better after my rest, but my state of utter uselessness is become most troublesome. Jim sets the tray in front of me and places the bowl tentatively on top of the tray. At this moment a normal human under the same circumstances would feel gratitude, I only feel shame.

"Thank you Captain," I manage to say.

"Please call me Jim. We're not working right now. Plus it feels too formal when you do that, we're friends," Jim always has a way to extract emotion from me despite my futile attempts to hide from him.

He removes the cover for the bowl to reveal Miso Soup and he puts a spoon at the side, "Now you have to drink all of it. I'm going to make us some tea."

I pick up the spoon, and scoop some soup. It tastes very salty but not unpleasant. I do as I'm ordered. Jim kneels to the floor and lifts up a section of the Tatami mat to reveal a hidden kettle he begins to boil water.

"Why do you feel satisfaction in serving me in my sickened state?" I seem to have no control over my thoughts. I had no intention to say that out loud.

Jim stopped to think about this, "I guess, it really pains me to see you hurt, I want to do anything to help you. I just like you so much," he looks directly into my eyes as he says this. I have no idea how to reply to such a statement. I open my mouth to respond...But Jim interrupts me.

"And I've had colds before, I know how it sucks to be sick," he turns back to the kettle and puts tea leaves into a sieve to steep. I turn back to face the wall. The word 'like' can be interpreted in various perspectives. Humans are frustrating in their lack of description.

"Spock," Jim catches my attention again.

"Yes Jim?"

"Finish your soup."


	3. Chapter 3

I sit upright. It must be the night hours of this planet. I do not remember falling asleep. I peer around the dark room. Jim's futon lies beside me but it is vacant. My wish is to rise and search for him. As I pull the blanket off an extremely cold chill rolls over my arm and hands. My head still throbs with an inconvenient pain as I try to gaze ahead of me by bending my neck. Jim would disapprove of any movement on my accord. I decide to lay still, meditate and wait for his return.

I let my mind go blank and breathe... This infernal cold has restricted the use of my nose and its breathing capabilities.

Jim walks in at this moment. He is trying to be as discreet as possible. It's humorous how the floor defies his intention for silence as it creaks under his feet. He gently removes his shoes, he then kneels down to his bed and he removes his shirt. Dr. McCoy may say that he is gaining weight however my opinion differs greatly. I think Jim is in great physical health and his body performs admirably in stressful situations. I never tire of analysing Jim's physique. To me he is the most amazing being ever to enter my life. This in turn, makes my opinion of him biased.

I feign comatose as Jim checks on me before submerging himself under his covers. I slowly peer out of the corner of my left eye to see if Jim is still looking at me. He is not. His breathing has eased and he is sleeping on his side with his back facing me. The blanket hides Jim's wonderful curves to which I am privy too during missions where his uniform mysteriously disappears. He also holds scars on his back. They reflect past experiences where I was unable to prevent him from injury.

Jim turns on his other side and therefore is facing me directly. He is definitely asleep. His hair is completely out of order, certainly due to his recent shift in position. He is breathing out of his mouth. My attention is drawn to his rhythmic and calming act of respiration. His face looks so peaceful. He is not concerned about red alerts, primary distress signals or Klingon battleships. He is beautiful. The new atmosphere of relaxation urges me to return to sleeping however, Jim mutters something.

"mmmhghhhgmm," this is utter rubbish to my focused Vulcan hearing. Jim is obviously in REM sleep and is therefore dreaming. I inspect his facial expressions and try to interpret what kind of dream Jim is experiencing. The edges of his lips are curved into a small smile, but then. His face changes, his lips are twitching. His eyebrows then turn to sadness.

"no...no Spock..." it seems as if I'm featured in his dream, "don't...take, Spock..."

Jim is troubled. But I have no desire to wake him. It is more suitable that his dream be resolved before he wakes up. I'm going to perform the Vulcan mind-meld. I reach my hand over to his tense face. My arm is instantly hit with cold temperature. I ignore it, this act is more important. I place my fingers over the correct areas and his skin is warm underneath my fingertips. I clear my mind and I make the connection.

* * *

It is very dark and empty within Jim's dream. At first I don't see him. But then he is here, beyond a glass wall, he is yelling but all his screams are silent. I run to the glass wall and put my hands on it. Jim sees me and he appears to be talking. This wall between us might be what prevents me from hearing what Jim wants to say. Jim has tears in his eyes.

"Jim, why are you crying?" I ask, perhaps he might hear me, dreams are so unusual and it's common that logic has no practise here. But he motions that he can't hear me either. This frustrates me. I start to punch the glass. My Vulcan strength might be able to break it. Even thought strength has no merit in dreams. I manage to create a crack and I can hear Jim.

"Spock!" Jim yells, "You were going to leave me." Jim shows relief in that statement.

"I never intent to leave you Jim," I say, and I fully mean it. Perhaps his dream is the result of repressed stress.

"But you were the one who put the glass here," Jim says as he looks at me desperately.

I am at a loss. There is no way to approach this situation scientifically, "What do you mean, by it was me who put the glass here?"

"You don't want to be with me. So you put this here to separate us." This must be a reflection of insecurity of our relationship on Jim's behalf. But why would he be troubled about our friendship.

"You don't even get the concept," Jim said, that was the only comment that sounded reasonable out of his previous statements, "The only time I get to understand you, is through little cracks, like this one here." Perhaps this dream is symbolic. "I feel for you Spock. I want to be with you forever and not just as crewmen but as partners." This is a clear confession. Jim wants to be with me. I am pleased beyond description. The crack in the glass wall grows larger.

"My feelings for you are mutual," I say while attempting to hide my excitement.

"I know," Jim says. I'm stunned. It is conceivably impossible for him to know my deep affection for him. "What I want is for you to not dismiss it or ignore it." That is an accurate description of my actions regarding this matter.

"Jim, I promise that from now on, my affections towards you will be as open as possible."

The glass wall opens wider so that a decently sized hole appears. Jim sticks his hand through it.

"Seal it with a kiss?" I'm surprised. Jim knows the meaning for when Vulcans touch hands. I extend my hand to grasp his. This is also the human way of acceptance as I understand it.

"Spock, I'm so happy we were able to make this step further. But as you see, this wall is still here."

"Obviously," I say, "but I can't change everything about myself to suit your needs." That statement was unnecessary, but I must make all my feelings clear to him.

"That is not what I'm asking," Jim smiles back at me, "There is just more work to be done in order for us to completely and finally get each other." I give Jim a quizzical look. Then I am forced out of his dream.

My hand feels frozen. My Vulcan blood circulation due the temperature and the infection is not working properly. But the purpose for this distress has been met with an appropriate end. A very appropriate end. Jim looks comfortable and pleased. Please don't forget that dream Jim. The hour is still late, and returning to sleeping is an agreeable decision. I ponder at what tomorrow will yield.

* * *

*****Author's note

I'd like to say this nice and up front. THANKS ALL READERS!! YOU MAKE MY LIFE

Now, I have barely any idea what I'm doing with this story. I write as I think. There will be troubles, there will be complete inaccurate situations. Therefore I call upon you dears to guide me.

Special thanks to R S F T F A C, you brought me back down to earth concerning my subject matter.

Please review any suggestions, because I'm so very open to new ideas. =D

Comments give me the courage to go on.


	4. Chapter 4

I awoke with Jim gazing over my face, "Hello there," Jim says cheerfully, "How are you feeling?"

I have been asked this question before. It was my mother who was obsessed with confirming my status during new encounters and new situations. However, I believe that Jim is inquiring to my physical health instead of my opinion or emotional state.

"My condition has not improved in the slightest," for I cannot lie, especially to Jim.

Jim's cheerfulness deflates, "Well, maybe once you've had some food you'll feel a little better." Jim turns around towards the door and brings back a tray with the most unusual array of food. He also sets down a cup with what I can consider to be green tea. I immediately pick up the cup of tea as the warmth is most inviting to my chilled hands. The substance is generally lacking in great flavour compared to what is usually given to me aboard the Enterprise. It is hot and it remains hot as I swallow my first sip and the heat travels down. I find the tea not entirely disagreeable. Jim sits down beside my futon bed and places chopsticks beside my tray of nourishment.

"Are you familiar with Chopsticks Spock?" Jim asks excitedly.

"I do know the utensils function, history and application yet I've never had the opportunity to use them." I reply. I gently set down my empty cup of tea and pick up the chopsticks. Jim has a pair of his own which he breaks apart and holds in the correct textbook manner. I follow suite, I break mine apart. They are poorly made chopsticks with the interest of quantity over quality as one of my chopsticks retains a bigger mass of wood then its counterpart.

Jim chuckles softly, "Don't worry Spock they are still usable."

Before I attempt to utilize my eating tools, I ask, "You did remember that as a Vulcan, it is not within my interests to consume meat products..."

Jim interrupts, "Oh Spock, I always think about you and therefore I made sure everything here is vegetarian safe. Including the sushi that looks like fish, the store owner told me that some species are difficult to come by in different seasons and instead they synthesize vegetables and oils to imitate several ingredients, such as that crab in your California roll."

I'm simultaneously flattered and impressed by his comments, "I was under the impression that this planet could be compared to the Edo period of Japan on Earth. I do not believe they invented such a method of food development."

"They may be a little more advanced then the Federation thinks." Jim replied, "Anyway, quit worrying and eat your sushi."

I do as I'm told. Yet the actually handling of the chopsticks seems to be somewhat more difficult than previously imagined. I do my best to remember the correct holding technique but my memory fails me. Instead I observe Jim's chopsticks skills as he greedily eats what I can assume is replicated salmon. His hands move quickly from the sushi tray to the soy sauce dish to his mouth. My eyes linger a little too long on his mouth. His lips are most captivating, and terrible interesting. He does not care that a few pieces of rice have escaped his tongue and they stick to his chin and the sides of his lips. As that thought crossed my mind, his tongue licks his lips to retrieve the lost rice. This is almost too much to absorb. I use all my Vulcan training of restraint to force myself to look at his hands and imitate his chopstick holding form.

"Are you not hungry?" Jim asks.

"...No, I seem to have...difficulties in using chopsticks." I reply solemnly, I have shown Jim another weakness.

"I can get you a fork, if you want," Jim says as he begins to rise off the floor.

"Jim, I would prefer if you could assist me in learning how to use them." I reply, I must do the best in every situation or else I will never be satisfied.

Jim sits back down, he sits closer to me, "Well," he holds his chopsticks. He clearly shows the proper hand formation, "Can you hold it like this?"

I do my best to copy his exact hand position to the chopsticks, "Is this correct?"

"Not quite," Jim sets down his pair of chopsticks and reaches towards my own. His fiddles with the chopsticks, he is moving them about. It is almost as if he is avoiding contact with my hands. He is obviously not successful in presenting me with the correct usage of the chopsticks. I can feel the heat radiating off his hands. They are so close to mine. As Jim is doing his best, I observe his fingers. His digits are decently long, he has calluses on his palm and the side of his forefinger and middles finger on his right hand. His finger nails are clean and cut short. A mischievous thought crosses my mind. Instead of remaining still and letting Jim attempt to correct my hand position, I move my hand slightly, much to Jim surprise and contact ensues between my knuckles and Jim's fingertip. This action startles me at first. It is simply a touch yet I feel an immense sensation. It is as if a fraction of energy has been passed between us, I enjoy this feeling very much. After the brief moment of excitement has passed, I am encountered with the reality that I am acting in a selfish manner. Because of the difference in Vulcan physiology, Jim would not notice a change during this contact. I bring myself to look upon his face.

Jim is showing the facial expression of shock, "I'm, I... I'm sorry." Jim is stuttering, "Bones t-told me...t-that Vulcans...are pretty, sensitive in...their hands." Jim face now reflects the image of a disheartened man, "I was... trying to not... well, touch you there." I do believe that Jim has become flushed in the face. He begins to get up off the floor again.

I throw my chopsticks and my hand flies out to grasp his before he can rise. Jim is once again, stunned.

"Did the good Doctor inform you as to why Vulcans are so sensitive in that area?" I ask, never breaking eye contact.

"He said...that... It's like kissing. For Vulcans." Jim stares back at me. More confidence has arisen in him I believe. He then smirks.

He is holding my hand. I was so preoccupied with keeping Jim where he sits that it isn't until now that I realise a heat generated between his hand and mine. Jim starts rotating his thumb to draw circles around the back of my hand. This is THE most amazing thing I have ever experienced in my life. However Jim is merely beginning. My grip loosens and his fingers graze over the back of my own and then touch my fingertips. A hot shiver runs down the back of my body. I let out a quiet moan. Jim definitely hears me. I take a quick glance at Jim's face. He has such a grin on those lips. My thoughts are cut off. Jim starts massaging my palm roughly, his finger intertwine with my own ever so often. I know that my eyes have rolled back in pleasure. I cannot restrain the moans from my mouth, and this simply encourages Jim to continue. I can't breathe....I can't breathe!

I'm gasping for air. I retract my hand from Jim's. I attempt to cough out whatever is blocking my air cavity. Jim runs to a bag that sits in the corner of the room. He pulls out a hypospray and injects its contents into my arm. Slowly, air begins to return to me. Small breathes. I let out a sigh of relief.

Jim also sighs as my breathing returns to normal, "We'll postpone this activity until you're all better."

"Indeed," I reply, "Where did you acquire the hypospray?" I ask.

"It was McCoy who insisted that I bring this along." Jim says as he observes the empty medical instrument, "I have more medication in the bag if we ever, need it."

"Clever McCoy, do you know the contents of the hypospray?" I reply.

Jim smiles faintly, "No idea, but it worked didn't it?"

"Stay with me, please," I say.

"I'm never going to leave you." Jim says.

I motion him to lie down beside me. He actually gets under the covers with me. He puts his arms around my waist and relaxes.

"For now, let's just stay like this." Jim says. I can't agree with him more.

* * *

BRAIN BRAIN WHAT IS BRAIN?

Sorry, I have no idea what's going on or what's going to happen.

Hope this is alright, hope you enjoyed it.

Good-day my lovelies, I'm going to eat some fattening, unhealthy french fries.

RL


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